Unofficial Portkey Archive

A/N: Many, many thanks to all my reviewers of the last chapter! I'm so glad that y'all liked it :) danielerin, you completely made my day with your comment that I'll make a good mom *sniffles* Thank you muchly for that! Hope y'all enjoy this looooong chapter and reviews would be tremendously appreciated!

Chapter Sixteen - Potter Christmas (aka Unless You Sing)

It was the evening before the Hogwarts Express would be carting the vast majority of Hogwarts' students home for the Christmas holidays and the Yuletide spirit was definitely in the air. Almost everywhere around the school, and the Great Hall in particular, had been festooned for the season and the excitement that only Christmas can bring was definitely swelling every heart.

Well, almost every heart.

From the scowl adorning Emerson Potter's face, one wouldn't know that she would be going home to celebrate the rapturous phenomenon. It wasn't that she didn't want to go home. She was just trying to think selflessly here. It was for the greater good, wasn't it?

'But no, Mum and Dad just had to take it the wrong way when I asked to stay here,' she thought darkly, dumping clothes and shoes into her trunk without looking to see where they landed. 'Do they think I'd rather be here than with them? Don't they know that only something very serious could make me even think about not being with them?'

Em sat down on her bed and sighed, leaning over the trunk, her long hair framing her face and hiding it from view. She closed her eyes tightly, trying not to cry. She was so confused! She missed them so much, she couldn't wait to be with them, to see them again, Mum and Dad, Ben, Budget and Vina.

And yet...

Smiley was so persistent, so consistent, so convincing. Emerson didn't know when it was that she'd begun believing the mysterious letter writer, but somehow she did. Somehow, she'd begun to think that maybe, just maybe, Smiley was right. Weren't they better off without her? Weren't they safer?

Weren't they purer?

The thought sent a stab of agony through her being, making her gasp aloud. She squeezed her eyes tighter, clenching her teeth, grateful for the screen of privacy that her thick hair provided. She wanted nothing more than to yank her hangings closed and cry into her pillow (like she'd been doing almost daily now), but that would certainly delight Jerrianne and the Fakers, who were sitting perkily on Jerrianne's bed, jabbering away.

Annamaria had wanted to talk to Lyna about something, probably about the joint Christmas present they were getting their Dad, so Em was without an ally at the moment. She'd wanted to go with Lyna but since she'd ignored her packing until the last minute, this really was the only time she had left to get it done.

Unfortunately, that meant she had to be alone in the same room with Jerrianne, Janie and Maria. Too bad her hair couldn't block out their voices like it did their faces. But at least they offered her a distraction from her agonizing thoughts.

"-but Papa wore her down. He can never refuse me, you know, so I'm going to the Christmas Ball at Sandringham House!" Jerrianne was haughtily bleating, causing Janie and Maria to squeal in unison.

"Omigawd! I'm sooo jealous, Jerri! Maybe you'll meet the Queen!"

Jerrianne scoffed. "Maybe? Don't be stupid, Maria, of course I will. It's her private residence! At least until February of next year and since this December comes before next February, that means she'll be there. The whole Royal family, actually. Anyway, Papa promised to introduce me to as many of them as he can."

Emerson knew that Jerrianne's father was some kind of politician, who doted excessively on his only child. From what she'd heard, Jerrianne's mother seemed to have almost no say in her daughter's life; Jerrianne would simply go to her father and he would override whatever it was her mother said. No wonder she had such an attitude of entitlement; she'd been getting her way since the day she was born.

"I bet certain people wish they could be rubbing shoulders with real Royals," Jerrianne said loudly. "Not wannabe-royalty, famous just cause they defeated some kinda ugly old warlock."

Janie and Maria giggled appreciatively and Emerson rolled her eyes and pulled her hair back to resume packing. Oh, for an Earclogging Charm!

"D'you already have your dress picked out?" That was Janie.

"Oh my gosh! It's amazing!" Jerrianne breathed, and then launched into a breathless description of her ball gown which, frankly, Em thought sounded hideous. Of course, Janie and Maria went into raptures.

"You'll be the most beautiful girl there, Jerrianne, I just know it! I bet the Prince won't be able to keep his eyes-"

"-maybe he'll ask you to dance! I bet-"

"-and your hair! I still wish I had hair like yours, Jerrianne. It's so silky and-"

"-you must show off your feet. They're so dainty, like a Princess!"

They were actually interrupting each other in their haste to glorify the other girl and, finally, Emerson shot them a look of deep disgust. "Honestly! If you two kissed Jerrianne's arse any harder, you'd be drawing blood."

That very effectively and satisfyingly shut them up. For a few minutes anyway, and then they were back in fawning and cooing mode. They were now far more annoying than distracting and, unable to stand it anymore, Emerson jumped up and let the lid of her trunk slam shut. She grabbed her wand and stalked towards the door.

Jerrianne heaved a great fake sigh. "I guess some people are unable to bear the fact that other people have more and better fun."

"Oh, get stuffed and die, you miserable cow," Em said wearily, letting the door mimic her trunk's lid and slam shut behind her.

Which was too bad, because had she stayed, perhaps her spirits might have gotten even the tiniest bit of a boost from the rather impressive shade of magenta that the other girl achieved.

As it was, though, Em knew she was really the miserable one. Once she was seated in one of the overstuffed old armchairs in the farthest corner of the common room, the tears she'd been holding in began cascading down her cheeks and she didn't bother trying to keep them in check. She wanted to go home. She wanted to be with her family.

But she was scared. Terrified. What if Smiley wrote to her while she was home? Her parents would want to know who it was from, and then they'd probably get it out of her. And then Smiley would somehow know she'd told someone and would try to hurt Ben, Budget and Vina.

And it would be her fault. Just like Julia's death was her fault, just like-

Stop it!

Emerson took a deep, shuddering breath and covered her face with her hands, wiping her cheeks. She was not going to cry anymore! Her parents were making her go home, there was nothing she could do about it. All she could do was try not to tip them off, try to keep her mouth shut about Smiley, and pray like heck that they wouldn't harass her too much in trying to find out what was going on.

She wanted some happiness. Oh God, she needed some happiness! And was there a happier time than Christmas, with those you loved more than anything else in the world?

Even if you weren't worthy of them?

"Happiness is being home for Christmas. Home to hear the sweet old carols sung. Home to smell the sugar cookies baking-" Em recited, almost defiantly, under her breath but broke off abruptly, the lump in her throat having mushroomed too much for her to continue.

"Home, where all the stockings have been hung," someone said from her left, completing the little poem that her Grandpa Granger had taught her and a few of her friends when she was younger.

She turned to look into Brandon Wood's smiling face, watching the smile fade as he took in the fact that her eyes were red from crying.

"Are you okay?" he asked, sounding concerned.

She nodded. "Yeah."

He looked unconvinced. "What's wrong?"

Em shrugged. "Nothing really."

He stared at her for a second, then frowned. "It's that Youngleer girl and her two remoras, isn't it?"

Em couldn't hold back a wry grin. "Don't insult remoras, Brandon. They, at least, perform a valuable service."

"I guess so," he said, with a chuckle. He stared at her for a few more seconds. "Don't let them get to you. Y'know?"

She nodded, glad that he seemed convinced that that was really what was bothering her. Actually, she was feeling a little better. Imagine that, Brandon Wood, of all people making her feel better!

But then she heard him sigh wistfully and, looking up, saw that the trademark mischievous gleam was back in his eyes.

"I'm looking forward to Boxing Day. You're going to dance with me, right?"

He was talking about the tradition the Potter and Wood families had of the Potters spending the evening of Boxing Day at the Wood estate, which was called (rather unimaginatively, Em thought) Woodhaven.

"Dammit, Brandon, we were actually having a civilized conversation for once. You just had to go and ruin it, didn't you?"

"But it's not ruined," he said, looking perplexed. "This is a natural progression..."

Emerson sighed and leaned back in her chair, listening to him carry on with what he did best: exasperating her. As she waited for Carolyna to get back, she watched the snow falling down outside the window, heard faint snatches of conversation from around the common room, punctuated by the crackles of the logs in the fireplace.

And in spite of herself, she couldn't suppress a twinge of excitement.

Carols, sugar cookies and stockings. The things of Christmas. The things of home.

**********

Within the first few days of being home, however, Emerson was beginning to wonder if she shouldn't have fought harder to stay at school. Sure, it was wonderful being with her brothers and sister again and she'd quickly slipped back into the daily routine. It was awesome being able to jabber with Ben about completely breezy stuff, like his upcoming birthday party, and his non-gambling win over Andy Wood.

Budget, it went without saying, invigorated her by his sheer presence and he was so funny! She'd found herself laughing repeatedly for the first time in weeks. And Vina, that little snuggle bunny, who liked nothing better than to sit in Em's lap and periodically touch her big sister's face as if to reassure herself that yes, Em really was here.

Crazy snowball fights in the backyard and afterwards, mugs of hot apple cider and plates of the long-dreamed-about sugar cookies, fresh from the oven. Teaching Vina to catch snowflakes on her tongue and making snow angels, whose wings Mum Charmed to really flutter. Yep, in most ways, it was good to be home.

Her first day back, her parents had been all hugs and good vibes and she'd begun to think that maybe they wouldn't ask about her letter. She quickly discovered that she'd relaxed far too soon. That same evening, her mum had casually brought the conversation around to Em's request and it quickly became clear to her that repeated non-answers just weren't going to cut it.

Already her parents had raised the subject a few times, sometimes the both of them together, sometimes just her Mum or Dad. Emerson found that she particularly hated it when it was her Dad who questioned her. She just felt so incredibly guilty and there was always this strong sense of some kind of uncomfortable tug-of-war being waged inside her. She wanted to tell him so badly and yet.. yet.. something was holding her back, that dual-edged fear.

At the moment, she was lying on the big suede couch in the family room, watching the fairy lights play across the walls without really seeing them. Budget and Vina were asleep, Ben was somewhere in the house and Mum was probably in her office.

And Dad-

Em sniffled and wiped her eyes. Dad was probably with Mum, and was likely ranting. She'd honestly never seen him look at her like that before, it'd been almost frightening. She hadn't meant to be rude to him, the words had just popped out of her mouth before she could stop them. She'd essentially told him to get a life and stop harassing her and he'd looked at her like-

Emerson flushed with shame, shuddering at the memory. "But why can't he just leave me alone?" she said in a strained whisper. "I can't tell them. I can't!"

The sound of footsteps made her look up and she didn't try to hide her tears. It was Ben, his brow furrowed as he looked about the room as if searching for something. "Hey, have you seen-" he began, but then he got close enough to see her face and stopped. "Are you crying about something?"

Brilliant deduction, Sherlock. Emerson shot him a look of irritation. "Gee, whatever tipped you off?"

Her brother stopped and looked at her for a minute, a scowl slowly creeping across his face. "Fine, be like that!" he snapped back. "You think you're the only one with problems?"

He turned and began storming out of the room, and Em suddenly didn't want him to go.

"Ben, wait."

He stopped and looked stonily back at her, not speaking.

"I'm sorry, okay? I'm just really miserable right now."

She watched him walk over again and perch on the couch near her feet, the fairy lights glinting off his glasses and somehow seeming to make light of the heaviness in the air.

"Why are you miserable?" he asked.

That's the 64,000 Galleon question, eh? "I can't tell you."

He looked annoyed for a second before shrugging. "Okay. But I can tell you about mine. I'm this close-" he held up his thumb and forefinger with a minuscule space between them "- to being suspended from Woodlands."

This startling admission was enough to completely distract Emerson from her misery. "What! Why?"

"Well, you remember Paddy McPherson?"

Emerson scowled. "How could I forget such an arsehole?" Paddy, and especially his older brother Peter, used to try to bully her quite a bit when she went to Woodlands. The only thing tainting her satisfaction that he was still at what was essentially a kiddie school, while she was now at Hogwarts, was the fact that Ben was still at Woodlands too and hence, fodder for Paddy.

Ben grinned at her statement, before sobering. "Well, he and I got into a fight and Headmistress Esson-"

"Whoa, wait, wait!" Em interrupted, her eyes wide. "You got into a fight with Paddy?"

"Yeah. And Headmis-"

"Slow down, for God's sake!" she cried. "Why'd you get into a fight? Was he picking on you?"

Ben scowled again. "No, on one of my friends. I couldn't just stand by and let him."

"My hero," Emerson said softly, gazing at him in honest admiration. "Taking on Big Bad Paddy McPherson! I bet you kicked his bullying backside too."

Ben blushed scarlet. "Well, you'd have done the same thing if it was your friend."

"Was it Andy?"

"No. He's a new kid in Rajiv's class. Arnie Shriver."

Em sat up straighter. "Arnie Shriver?"

"Yeah. Why? You know him?"

"No. I know a Gryffindor first year named Will Shriver, though."

"Arnie has a brother named Will, who just started at Hogwarts!" Ben exclaimed excitedly. "He's always going on about him."

"How about other brothers and sisters?" Em asked, leaning forward. This was interesting.

He bit his lip, thinking, then brightened. "Yeah, he has twin little brothers. They're always sick."

Em slumped back against the couch, looking incredulous. "Will has twin little brothers who are always sick too! What're the odds, you and me befriending two brothers without even knowing it?"

"Mum actually knew Arnie's Mum from Hogwarts. She was in that club that Mum started. You know, the one Uncle Ron still teases her about?"

"S.P.E.W." Em said, nodding. "Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. And Mum's actually gotten the last laugh on that one. Didn't she get the Ministry to change some of the laws about house-elves and other magi-"

She broke off when she caught sight of her father looking in the room, but by the time Ben had whipped around to see what had halted her speech, Dad had already continued on.

And in a rush, Emerson remembered that she was miserable and why. It was no use pretending that things were otherwise. This was all her fault and she just didn't know what to do about it.

Feeling suddenly deflated, she leaned back on the couch and tried her very best to keep up the conversation with her brother, without tipping him off to the fact that her heart was breaking.

And, she thought sadly to herself, that this was definitely not how the lead-up to Christmas should be.

*********

"Remind me again why we didn't just let Emerson stay at Hogwarts like she wanted to, would you, Hermione? Because I think we might've made a mistake," Harry had said irritably as he stalked into his office earlier that evening, where his wife was looking over some parchments. He had just had the exact same conversation with Em as they'd had every time since she came home, and Harry was frustrated.

Hermione looked up from the parchment with a frown, her eyes troubled. "She wouldn't tell you?"

"Of course not. And this time she got all snarky with me, saying I'm making a big deal out of nothing and 'suggesting' that I find something else to obsess about because there wasn't anything from her angle worth being obsessed with."

His wife gasped. "She said that?"

"It was more the way she said it than what she said. I wanted to hit her, Hermione," Harry half-moaned, feeling and looking horrified. "I actually felt like smacking my daughter. She has a mouth on her, we've always known that, but it's never affected me like this." He tore his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "Oh God, I'm too young for these things."

"Don't you mean 'too old'?" she asked softly.

Harry's head snapped up. "No, I mean 'too young'! Shouldn't I get to be at least forty before I have to deal with teenage temper tantrums?"

"And she's not even a teenager yet," Hermione mused, turning back to her parchments and for some reason, that really annoyed Harry.

"Whose side are you on, anyway?" he asked sharply.

She looked at him, bewilderment suffusing her features. "I'm on your side, of course."

"Well, how about acting like it?"

The bewilderment slowly morphed into a cold look as she stared at him. "I'm on your side, Harry, you know that. I want to know about these changes in our daughter as much as you do. But it doesn't help the situation at all if you get snippy too." She stood up and gathered her parchments. "I'll be in my office when you've had a chance to cool down."

The door closed noiselessly behind her, and it was more the absence of sound than anything else that calmed him. If she'd slammed the door, he could at least sit there and stew for a few more minutes. But her dignified exit alerted him to the fact that he was taking out his frustration on the one person who truly was always on his side.

Harry sighed and laid his head on the cool wooden surface of his desk. He just wanted to know why Emerson had asked to stay at Hogwarts. Was that too much to ask for? Why did she keep saying that she'd just wanted to? There had to be more to it than that, there just had to be.

He didn't like to acknowledge it, but a part of Harry thought he knew why: Emerson was asserting her independence. She was pulling away from them, establishing herself separately from her family. It made sense - for one, she'd abruptly decided against trying out for the Quidditch team. He liked to tell himself that it'd been her dream ever since she was a little girl, but really, how much of it was what Emerson really wanted as opposed to what he (and by extension, Ron) wanted? Hadn't he and Ron filled her head with glory tales about playing for Gryffindor, both secretly exulting in the light that erupted in her eyes?

Perhaps, on the day of the tryouts, Em had really examined herself and discovered that her desire to play on the Gryffindor team was really that of her father and uncle. Perhaps that was why she hadn't told them anything else, she wanted to spare their feelings.

"I don't know," Harry said aloud, sighing again. He and Hermione had always raised their children to be independent. But honestly, to this extreme?

And Hermione was right; it wouldn't help the situation any for him to get snippy too. Merlin knew, Emerson already had that one down to an art.

Feeling sufficiently "cooled down", though by no means enlightened, he left the room and made his way to the stairs. He had to pass the family room to get to them and looking in, he saw Emerson and Ben deep in conversation. Harry had the fleeting thought of eavesdropping, but quickly changed his mind and continued on his way up the stairs. It would never do to have them mistrusting him as well.

Upon reaching Hermione's closed door, he took a breath and knocked.

"Come in."

He opened the door and saw her sitting at her desk, her back to him. From the set of her shoulders, he knew that she knew it was him. He could also tell that she was still irritated.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly.

She didn't turn around. "For what?"

"I'm sorry for snapping at you. I was just frustrated about Em and I guess I took it out on you."

She glanced at him over her shoulder. "You guess?"

She wasn't going to let him off easy, Harry realized, and he felt a grin tugging at the sides of his mouth. Crossing over to her, he laid his hands on her shoulders. "Okay, I know I took it out on you. Forgive me?" He punctuated his words with a slow knead of her neck muscles and smiled at her sharp intake of breath.

"Well.."

"What do I need to do to make you forgive me?"

She gave a little moan. "Well, for one, you could shut up and keep doing what you're doing."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, dipping his head to kiss her neck and for the next few minutes, the only sounds were the little contented noises Hermione made as Harry massaged her. He could get caught up in doing this; she smelled and felt so good. But once all the knots had been gently done away with, he perched on the edge of her desk and looked down at her.

She smiled up at him. "You're forgiven. And Harry, you should know that Em was exactly the same way with me when I spoke to her. Maybe a bit more with you, actually, because you are both so much alike."

"Me and Em?" he asked, frowning.

"Yeah. And that's always a recipe for conflict, because you're both stubborn and independent and the harder someone pressures you, the more determined you are not to give in. We have to be careful, go gentle with her or we might end up alienating her and that's the last thing we want."

Harry nodded. That made sense. Hell, he could recall feeling like that at Hogwarts, back when he and Snape were the bitterest of enemies. The thought of being like Snape was vaguely frightening and his face must have shown it because Hermione's brow furrowed in a silent inquiry.

"I was just thinking, I don't want to be to Em like Snape was to me at Hogwarts."

She smiled and reached up to touch his cheek. "Don't worry, it's not possible for you to be. Because there was no love lost between you and Snape at the time. Whereas with Em... you would kill for her, Harry."

Her simple, matter-of-fact statement chilled him to the bone because he knew it was true. He would kill for Emerson, for Ben, Luke or Davina. He would kill for Hermione and in her case, it wouldn't be for the first time. But he didn't like to think about it, that the same hands he'd just used to massage his wife, the hands that had trembled upon holding his children for the first time, these hands had also ended the lives of more than one person. Murderous and evil Death Eater scum, sure, but people nonetheless.

Who wants to dwell on something like that? Harry found that he certainly didn't, and when his eyes landed on her parchments, he reached out to pick one up. "What're you working on, anyway? What's this, some kind of membership list?"

"Yeah, from Hogwarts," she answered, reaching inside her desk for a fresh bottle of ink. "Remember, I wanted to find out more about Arnie Shriver's family, that kid Ben got into a fight for?"

Harry nodded. He remembered Arnie. He was a thin, introverted boy who reminded Harry of himself at that age. Though, thankfully, Arnie at least had a mother, father and three brothers who loved him. He'd been over to Ballynore a few more times since Hallowe'en and he, Ben and Andy were apparently thick as thieves when at school.

"Well, I knew Arnie's mother was at Hogwarts with us but I couldn't remember her and-"

"It was driving you insane, right?" Harry interrupted with a grin. "Because you absolutely have to know everything there is to know and- OW!"

"-and somehow I just felt sure that I'd known her, if only as an acquaintance," Hermione continued resolutely, as if she wasn't blushing and there hadn't been the slightest interruption. "I was right. She was one of the few people who voluntarily joined S.P.E.W. back in fourth year. Her name was Margaret Lovejoy at the time."

Harry gazed at his wife adoringly. She never ceased to amaze him. Even now when her life was so full and busy, she still made time to find out more about other people, to try to effect some positive change for them. He knew the Shrivers were going through some financial difficulties and knowing Hermione, assisting them was the driving force behind her research.

"You are just like Ben, you know that?" he said, sounding almost awed. "Or shouldn't I say, Ben is just like you? Going out of your way for someone else, without even being asked."

She was definitely blushing now as she tried to shush him, but he slid off her desk, pulled her into his arms and shushed her attempts to shush him. She kissed him back and then they held each other tight, she rubbing his arm soothingly where she'd playfully pinched him before. Harry sighed and rested his cheek against her hair, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. Merlin, how he loved this woman!

They stood like that for a long minute until the sound of the door creaking open made them pull apart. It was Luke, pyjama-clad and wild-haired, and Harry noted, dismayingly bright-eyed. Hadn't they put him to bed less than half an hour ago?

"What're you doing up, mister?" Hermione was asking.

Luke's green eyes widened. "Is it Christmas yet, Mummy? Cause I swear, I heard Father Christmas landing on the roof just now!"

Hermione affected a great sigh, but Harry could tell she was trying not to laugh. "No, it's not Christmas yet, Luke. It won't be Christmas for a whole week yet. That was probably just your imagination."

"But I heard it!" Luke whined. "I heard it, Daddy. It wasn't my 'magination!"

Harry chuckled and picked him up and Budget laid his head on his father's shoulder, wrapping his arms around his neck. He pouted and grumbled as Harry carried him back to bed but didn't resist being tucked in.

"You know what, Budget, it could've been Father Christmas," Harry said, his eyes twinkling as he watched his son blinking sleepily.

Luke's eyes lit up. "It could've?"

"Yep. He was probably stashing some of the gifts early so that on Christmas Eve, he won't have to lug so much around." He grinned over at Hermione, who rolled her eyes while the corners of her mouth twitched.

The little boy looked at his mother. "D'you think so, Mum?"

Hermione leaned over to kiss his forehead. "That's one explanation, yes. But it's time for you to go to sleep now, okay?"

"I already did that," Luke mumbled. "So you mean it's time for me to go back to sleep."

'You know a child is the offspring of Hermione Granger when he starts arguing semantics,' Harry thought to himself later, with amusement, as he prepared hot chocolate for himself, Hermione, Emerson and Ben.

He carried the tray with the steaming mugs to the family room and they all sat around, sipping and chattering. Or at least, Hermione and Ben were. Emerson was very quiet, looking miserable and Harry noticed she kept glancing at him. Hermione must have noticed too because as soon as Ben was done, she stood up.

"Time for bed, Ben."

Ben frowned but didn't protest and after goodnights and hugs, he followed his mother out of the room. Harry stared into his mug, waiting to see if his daughter would make the first move.

It took a minute of awkward silence but she did. "Dad?"

Harry let out the breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. "Yeah, Em?"

She exhaled loudly. "I'm prob- This probably makes me sound like a broken record by now, but I'm sorry I was rude to you earlier."

"Okay," Harry said, looking at her. He watched her green eyes fill up and tears spill over onto her cheeks. Feeling alarmed, he reached out and she rushed into his arms. "Emerson, what's wrong?"

He could feel her shaking but then she pulled away and looked pleadingly into his eyes. "Isn't it enough that I came home, Daddy? That I'm here?"

Daddy.

She hadn't called him that in... how long was it? There was something searching in her voice, in her eyes, and it took him a full minute to figure out what it was - validation. She wasn't just asking him a question; she honestly feared that he would answer that no, it wasn't enough.

A wave of prickly unease swept over Harry but she was still staring at him, mutely begging, her cheeks wet with tears, and he pushed his questions aside and hugged her fiercely. His daughter; his firstborn.

"It's enough, Emerson. How can you even ask? Of course it's enough."

She seemed to sag with relief and somehow, Harry found himself resolving to just enjoy this time with her, this time of his whole family being together. Before he knew it, she would be returning to Hogwarts, hundreds of miles away from home.

He was by no means shelving his worries, his questions or concerns; he and Hermione would definitely be analyzing this new development. But let them just enjoy the holidays together.

It wasn't too much to ask for, was it? Just Christmas with the centers of his world?

********

Christmas morning dawned bright and cold, with a weak winter sun daring to make an appearance in a sky that resolutely promised snow. Dawn's light shone upon a landscape that was heavily coated with the pure white substance, which was at the moment more or less unmolested because all the human inhabitants of Ballynore Estate were as snug as bugs in rugs.

Or in their beds, as the case was. Emerson, for her part, was feeling warm and safe, curled up in a ball on her bed. She didn't know what had awoken her, but her eyes cracked open the slightest half-inch and she smiled drowsily.

It was Christmas, one of her favorite times of the year. She was home with her family and she was so happy to be! She was so happy that her parents hadn't allowed her to stay at Hogwarts, and even though the holidays had gotten off to a bit of a rough start, things had improved. Her parents had decided to lay the subject of her letter aside for the time being, and with that looming threat of discovery and its consequences now put on the shelf, she'd been able to relax somewhat. She knew that the matter wasn't resolved; she knew that they would ask her again eventually, but at least she didn't have to worry about it in the immediate present.

Frankly, Em rued the day she'd decided to write that letter. If she'd known what hassles it would result in her being subjected to, she surely never would've written it. It seemed like her intention of remaining separate from her family for the sake of them not discovering her painful secret had had the opposite effect and made them get alarmingly close to eureka.

'At least Smiley has had the good sense not to write to me here,' she thought, staring at the ticking hand of her clock, which was displaying that it was just after six o'clock. 'Probably stockpiling the junk mail for when I go back to school.'

Em sighed at that thought, then gave her head a small shake. She didn't want to think about that stuff anymore. It was Christmas, for Pete's sake, peace on Earth and goodwill to men and all that. No room for the bad stuff, there shouldn't be, right? With a small smile, she rolled over and closed her eyes again, intending to drift back into sleep.

Unfortunately, that was not to be.

Because barely a minute later, her door flew open and a little someone with a curly brown head scampered across the room and landed on her with a laugh.

"Happy Christmas, Emerson! Wake up!"

Emerson groaned and rolled over, reaching for her covers to pull them over her head. Her grasping hands discovered that, as usual, she'd kicked them to the floor some time during the night.

"Shit," she muttered sleepily and heard her little brother gasp.

Crap. I mean, uh-oh.

"You said a bad word!" Budget said, sounding awed.

Em opened her eyes to look into their mirror images, which were widely staring at her. "No, I didn't, Budget," she lied. "I said 'sheet', like my blanket. Get my sheet, my blanket. It's on the floor over there."

Her brother frowned, his small brow furrowed exactly like Mum's, and Em could feel a grin coming on. He was so cute!

"Okay," he said finally, scrambling off the bed and grabbing the comforter.

"Lie down," Em told him and he did so, reluctantly, as she threw the blanket over the both of them. He snuggled up to her and Em almost began to think she might actually get back to sleep.

Almost.

Because, of course, it wasn't long before Luke began fidgeting, twitching, stretching, scratching himself, rolling over, tugging at her hair, kicking his legs.

"Budget," she whined. "Go back to sleep."

"I can't, Em," he whispered. "It's Christmas and my eyes are already unconscious."

Em smiled, her eyes still closed. "You mean your eyes are conscious."

"That's what I said."

"No, you didn't. You said unconscious."

Her eyes opened to see Luke frowning at her. "Did not."

She grinned. "Did too."

"Did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Ah-ha, gotcha!" Em giggled, tickling him and he giggled with her.

They lay quietly for another minute. Then-

"Em?"

"Hmm?"

"Can we go open presents now?"

Merlin, does this kid have a one-track mind or what? "We can't, Lukas. We have to wait for Mum and Dad, Ben and Vina to wake up too."

Barely ten seconds later, she heard her door open and close and her eyes squeezed shut in defeat as Ben, toting Davina, walked over to the bed and plopped down too.

"Happy Christmas!"

Davina laughed and jumped onto her sister, who couldn't help smiling as she hugged the wiggling little bundle. "Happy Christmas, you insane lot. And you win. Let me just brush my teeth then we'll go wake Mum and Dad."

By the time she, Ben, Luke and Davina were standing outside Ballynore's Master bedroom, though, Em couldn't deny that she was just as excited as her siblings. As they knocked on the door and heard the cheerful "Come in!", her troubles retreated further into the distance in the happiness and good cheer that Christmas brings to all who believe in its own unique magic.

"Happy Christmas!" the four Potter children chorused, and then they were all on the huge bed, hugging and kissing and being hugged and kissed. Her parents beamed at her and she felt like she would never be able to stop smiling. Oh, she loved them so much, all of them!

"Daddy, I want to open presents now!" Luke said loudly, literally writhing with anticipation.

Dad laughed. "You mean you don't want some Stiticky Buns?"

"Oh," Luke said, momentarily distracted and everybody laughed. Because Luke loved Mum's sticky cinnamon buns, and they always had some on Christmas morning before anything else. When he was first learning to talk, he'd mispronounced sticky as 'stiticky' and now they all called it that.

Mum chuckled, leaning over to ruffle Luke's already ruffled hair. "How about this, Luke - we'll have some Stiticky Buns with hot chocolate and then we'll go straight to opening gifts. How does that sound?"

"I think that sounds very good," Luke proclaimed solemnly, making everyone laugh again. "Let's go then!"

Em gave Vina a piggyback ride from the room as they all headed downstairs to the breakfast nook. Mum had kept the buns magically warm overnight in the oven, so they had that 'fresh from the oven' taste, without any impatient mouths having to wait too long.

The buns and hot chocolate vanished in short order and they all eagerly trooped to the family room, where the large Christmas tree was standing proudly, its skirt piled with brightly wrapped gifts.

They sat on the carpet facing it and Em sighed happily as she gazed at the tree. They'd all decorated it, and this year, Vina had been the one (with Dad holding her up) to position the large, serene angel on the top of the tree. It was kind of lopsided, but somehow it looked perfect and Em couldn't imagine it being placed any other-

"Emerson!"

She looked up, to see her whole family gazing at her expectantly. "Um, sorry?"

"I said, you get to go first," Dad said, smiling at her.

"Oh, okay."

And they were off and running. For the next hour or so, the room was punctuated by the crinkling and tearing of paper, the fumbling to get things open, the loud shouts of delight and "Whoa!", "Thank you so much! I love it!" as the wrapped pile under the tree dwindled.

Finally, it appeared that everything had been opened and Em beamed at the gifts she'd received. There were quite a bit of stuff, from both close and extended family, but her favorite was definitely the brand-new racing broom that her parents had gotten her. It was the very latest model and she held it gently on her lap, her fingers caressing the smooth polished handle reverently. She'd wanted this so much!

"Man, I'm so jealous," Ben moaned, staring at her broom. But he was grinning. He'd gotten almost everything he'd asked for, as well. Ben really had it good, anyway, what with his birthday being the week before Christmas. So this was his second time opening presents in as many weeks.

"Oh, I forgot the gifts from America!" Mum exclaimed suddenly, tearing her eyes away from the gorgeous black leather coat Dad had gotten her. She carefully folded the coat and put it back in its box, then hurried from the room. "I'll be right back!"

"Yay, more presents!" Luke exclaimed, his green eyes shining.

Ben and Vina expressed similar sentiments but Emerson was suddenly overwhelmed with anxiety. She'd forgotten that her grandparents in Dallas always sent Christmas presents for everyone, and she'd always anticipated and appreciated their gifts.

But this year... and Smiley... Em didn't like to think about her grandparents these days, knowing that it was because of her that they didn't have their daughter anymore. And they were obviously too good-hearted to hold a grudge.

No, they'd sent her a gift (and upon their arrivals, gifts to her siblings as well) every year without fail. Emerson found that this was one year that she wished that tradition had been broken.

But Mum was coming back into the room, levitating a large box ahead of her. She was opening the box, reaching inside and handing out cheerfully wrapped packages and things. She was placing a narrow, lightweight box into Em's hand, and what could Em do but smile and accept it?

Emerson was aware of everyone watching her, so she tried not to let her hands shake too much as she unwrapped the box and opened it. She gasped when she saw what it was and for a moment she couldn't move or blink or anything resembling those actions.

"What is it, Em?" Mum asked, coming over to look.

"I-It's a.. a necklace. Actually, a locket," she managed at last, reaching out to touch it. The locket was heart-shaped and both chain and locket were made of white gold. The left side of the front cover was inset with a pure round diamond. There were three parallel lines curving from top to bottom on the rest of the locket and each line was inset with, alternately, tiny diamonds and emeralds. It was beautiful.

Em reached out trembling hands to pick it up, managing to open it after fumbling for a few seconds. "It has a small heart-shaped emerald in one side and a picture frame in the other."

"Where's the picture?" Ben asked, frowning as he leaned over to look closer.

Emerson turned the box over and a small card fell out. Upon opening it, she read:

Dearest Emerson,

Merry Christmas! We hope you like this locket. Actually, we didn't pick it out; Julia did. She bought it for you herself, a few days after you were born. I don't know how she knew that the emerald would become so appropriate for you. Maybe because of your father, but somehow, she decided to get the emerald and it suits you so beautifully.

I know she would've loved to have been able to give it to you herself, but since she can't, this is for you, with the deepest of love. We love you, our little brown girl! Have a wonderful day and all the very best for the New Year.

Love,
Herb and Enigi (Your Papi and Maman)

P.S. Of course you can put any picture you like inside it, but we thought we'd send this one along, just in case. Love you!

Frowning slightly, Em looked around her lap. She hadn't seen a picture when she got the letter out. "Where's-"

"Oh, here it is!" Ben exclaimed, holding up a snapshot. "It's a Muggle one; it's not moving."

He handed it over to Em and she felt her heart begin to pound and a lump swell in her throat as she stared at it. The picture showed an exhausted-looking young woman, who was nevertheless sporting a beaming smile. She was holding in her arms a swaddled infant, of whom only a dark head was visible.

'She looks so happy,' Em thought, blinking rapidly. 'I wonder if she knew then that no matter what she did, she was going to die. I wonder if she regretted not fighting, not competing with me for her life? I wonder if she knew that the one she kept alive would turn around and cause her death.'

The picture fell from her hands as horror filled her being. She felt sick to her stomach, the delicious sticky buns and hot chocolate that she'd happily consumed earlier now revolting against her, churning around in her gut as if in revulsion.

Oh God, I'm so sorry.. Oh God, I'm so sorry..

"Emerson? Moppet, what's wrong? What are you sorry about?" her Dad asked, looking almost frightened and only then did Em realize that she'd been saying the words aloud, while tears poured down her cheeks.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed over and over again. "I'm so sorry!"

She felt her Mum's arms wrap around her and she buried her face in the sweet-smelling embrace and cried until she couldn't anymore. Her Mum rocked her gently, rubbing her back and Em finally calmed down, her tears abating. Knowing that an interrogation was inevitable, she pulled away and took a deep breath, bracing herself.

Glancing around through swollen eyes, she was momentarily surprised to see that she and Mum were alone. Obviously, Dad had taken Ben, Budget and Vina out of the room; it was the right thing to do. For one, almost anyone's tears could upset Vina too because she was so sensitive, and Em didn't want her baby sister to be upset on Christmas.

"Did I upset Vina?" she asked, glancing at Mum, who was watching her shrewdly.

Her mother shook her head. "No, she's fine. They all are. But you're obviously not."

Em didn't answer, just stared at the lopsided angel on the Christmas tree, wishing she was feeling whatever that angel was feeling that caused it to be smiling like that. Because surely it would be better than this heavy burden of guilt which she couldn't even dream of sharing.

"I know that if I were to ask what made you so upset just now, what you're sorry about, you wouldn't tell me," Mum continued, her voice soft and gentle. "But you have to know, you must know, Emerson, that we're here for you. I'm sure you know that there are ways of making you tell us, of forcing you to. But we love you and respect you too much to do that. We trust you, Emerson. And it would mean so much if you would trust us, too."

Em wiped at the fresh tears that threatened to spill over, swallowing hard. "I do trust you, Mum. And Dad too, of course. But really, I'm fine. I was just overwhelmed, that's all."

"But why were you saying you're sorry? And for what?" Mum asked, earnestly. She reached out and grasped Em's hands in her own. "Tell me."

Emerson stared into the brown eyes of the woman she considered her mother, the woman who had always been there for her, whom she could tell anything and she wanted to tell her.. she was going to tell her.. she was opening her mouth, to blurt out the truth, to share this burden, to lay down this load..

And the Ballynore Arrival chimes began to ring.

The sound startled her and she jerked. It was as if she'd snapped to her senses, out of the hypnosis that her mother's anxious brown eyes had induced her into. Her mouth snapped shut and she yanked her hands away, her heart pounding, prickly sweat erupting on her forehead, under her armpits.

What're you doing? What are you doing? No. You can't.. Vina..

Emerson shut her eyes, listening to the sound of her little sister's laughter, the sound of her brothers clamoring for the attention of their grandfather, whose arrival the chimes had heralded.

"Emerson?"

She looked over at her Mum and forced herself to smile. "Don't worry about me, okay? I'm fine. I'm just being weird." She untangled her legs and stood up. "But Grandpa's here!"

And not waiting for an answer, she hurried from the room, into the happy excitement, still keeping that smile on her face. For a while, her brothers kept shooting her wary glances but once they realized that she wasn't going to burst into tears again, they relaxed and things pretty much went back to normal.

But not for Emerson. Not really. Her happiness had been polluted, and although her face and demeanor gave no indication (except perhaps to her parents, who kept watching her, looking worried), inside her heart cracked a little more every time she heard her brothers and her sister laugh.

********

The crackle of logs in the fireplace and the happy murmur of voices filled the large living room of the Burrow, and Harry Potter sighed. It was an ambivalent sigh, part happiness, part disquietude.

'It shouldn't be this way,' he couldn't help thinking, as he took in the predominantly cheerful atmosphere. 'I shouldn't be having mixed feelings. It's Christmas.'

And this Christmas had started off wonderfully enough. He'd been awoken that morning by the incredible sensation of Hermione doing unspeakable things to him with her mouth, under the covers. He'd pulled her up and for close to three-quarters of an hour afterwards, they'd been busy expressing their love to each other in that age-old dance from the dawn of humanity. Fulfilled at last, they'd showered together and gone back to their room. They'd put on fresh pyjamas and changed all the bedclothes. Then they'd cuddled, talking quietly, as they waited for their children to come and "wake them up".

Harry's heart had felt like it would explode with joy as he'd gazed at his children, smiling and chattering, enjoying each other's company. Little Davina's giggles.. his sons' laughter.. Emerson had looked the happiest he'd seen her since she'd been home for the holidays and he couldn't help beaming at her. She was so beautiful when she smiled and she'd been doing a lot of that this morning.

And then.. the presents from America.. and Em had burst into heartbreaking tears. Fervently, almost desperately, apologizing. For what? Why? Hermione had told him that she was sure Em had been about to confess whatever it was. But she'd managed to stop herself, and now, even though she tried to act like nothing was different, Harry knew, he could tell, that the girl from this morning was gone.

Harry shook his head in frustration. Something was troubling his daughter and he didn't know what it was. He wished he could-

"Daddy, look what I got!" Budget exclaimed, shoving a large box full of brand-new magic markers under his father's nose.

Harry laid his troubled thoughts aside for the time being and smiled down at his son. "That's great, Budget! Did you remember to thank the person who gave you the gift?"

"Thanks, Etienne!" Luke yelled. "This is humongously ace!"

Everybody laughed at such a huge word coming out of the small boy's mouth. Ron elbowed Harry with a grin. "See what your wife is doing to your sprogs?"

Raising his hands in mock-defeat, Harry gave a great sigh. "What can I do? You know how she is, bossy and-" He broke off with a yelp, while Hermione leaned back, looking innocent. He bent over to rub his shin where she'd kicked him and pretended to glare at her. "Wicked woman."

Ron laughed. "Luckily for me, I'm just the best mate, so she can't-OW!"

"Wrong answer, Ron. Cause I sure can," Hermione said, smiling sweetly before turning her attention to Davina, who was being frustrated by efforts to open her present. "Let me open this for you, baby."

"I can do it!" Davina exclaimed, moving the gift out of her mother's reach.

Hermione looked abashed while Harry and Ron snorted.

"Speaking of 'bossy'," Ron whispered, obviously trying to spare his legs from another lethal kick from his female best friend.

Harry laughed and leaned back in his chair, taking in the noisy chaos that was more than a dozen kids happily opening presents. The adults sat around nursing mugs of apple cider and occasionally exclaiming over the gifts that their offspring would shove in their faces.

This was another tradition that the Hogwarts friends had instigated upon starting their own families. It was a Christmas tradition for the children of the Trio that was Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley: to get together with the other Weasley grandchildren at the Burrow and exchange gifts. It did Harry's heart good to see his children being so showered, because he'd certainly never had that growing up. Not until Hogwarts.

At the same time, he knew that they really appreciated the gifts that they were receiving. Harry had always been wealthy (though one wouldn't know it from the first decade of his life, of course) and that had only increased once he survived to adulthood. Hermione was pretty well-off in her own right and the combined fortune of the Potters was such that none of the general public was quite sure what that total was.

But Harry and Hermione did not live lavishly. They lived in a very nice home, for sure, and drove a nice car, but nothing was done in excess. Their car, for instance, while it was a Jaguar, was nine years old and they intended to keep it for as long as it could provide efficient service.

Likewise, while their children never wanted for anything worthwhile, Harry and Hermione were determined that they learn to appreciate the value of hard work. Emerson and Ben both got allowances and if ever they wanted more than their allowance, they would have to earn it. Gifts were restricted to birthdays and Christmas, or for particularly momentous occasions. Because while Harry's children would never go to bed hungry, he would be damned if they would grow up to be spoiled brats with misguided senses of entitlement.

'Like Malfoy was at Hogwarts,' Harry mused silently, gazing at the blond-haired man who was cradling the baby doll that Theresa had placed in his arms. What a long way he had come, though. There was almost nothing in the character of the man with the doll to make one believe that he had once been the haughty, pointy-faced boy who had tried to make Harry's life hell at school.

"Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes," Hermione sang softly into his ear, and he turned to smile at her, marveling again at how mentally in tune with him she was.

"Yeah. He's come a long way, hasn't he?"

She nodded, gazing at Malfoy too. "He has. And we're all better for it."

"I don't know," Ron said, frowning slightly. "He can still be a git at times. And he will always be 'Ferret' to me."

The three of them glanced at each other and burst out laughing. After a few moments, they sighed and leaned back in companionable silence to take in the dying down of the gift openings. Once all the kids were lounging around happily with their new possessions and the ripped up wrapping papers had been Banished to the rubbish bin, Molly Weasley went around levitating a tray of sweet apple cider for the kids.

"How about some singing then?" she asked, once everyone had a drink in hand.

"Yeah!" the kids chorused.

"Jingle Bells!" cried Luke, sporting the grey-and-green knitted cap that had been Olivia's gift to him.

Harry and Hermione grinned at each other, knowing that Luke loved that one, particularly for the "Laughing all the way" part, which he would contribute to heartily.

After a raucous round of group singing, Ginny smiled and said, "How about you, Rory?"

Rory Weasley blushed. He was small and shy for his thirteen years, astonishing descriptors for any Weasley, much less for the son of the still-rambunctious George. But when he opened his mouth! When he opened his mouth, you were pinned to the spot, mesmerized, awed and touched by his resounding baritone.

"Go on, darling," Nina urged her vivid-haired son.

Upon taking a deep breath, Rory sang and, as usual, everyone was spellbound and speechless for a full minute after he ended. The applause and cheers made him blush so much that his whole head seemed to be ablaze. George could be seen wiping his eyes, beaming with pride at his only son.

Once they'd calmed down, Malfoy put down his mug and settled Abigail on his lap. "I'm rather particular to Em's voice, myself. How about a song for us, love?"

Harry looked over at Emerson and that sense of unease from earlier came flooding back to him. He'd been watching her during the gift openings and she'd been very subdued. Sure, she'd smiled and politely thanked everyone for her presents when she opened them. But the spark was missing and Harry knew he wasn't the only one who'd noticed. Perhaps Malfoy was trying to cheer her up, knowing how happy singing usually made her.

Emerson gave a small smile. She turned her head away and stared into the fire for so long that Harry thought she wasn't going to grant Malfoy's request. But at last, she began to sing in the clear, sweet soprano with which she'd been blessed. Her voice was suffused with such melancholy that Harry felt himself begin to choke up.

What Child is this who, laid to rest
On Mary's lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste, to bring Him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary.

Harry hadn't realized that his daughter was crying until he heard her sniffle. Everybody sat still, even the youngest children, watching the firelight dance on her hair as she paused, composing herself.

Why lies He in such mean estate,
Where ox and horse are feeding?
Good Christians, fear, for sinners here
The silent Word is pleading.

The whole time she had stared into the fire but on that last line, she suddenly looked up and straight into Harry's eyes. He just knew she was trying to tell him something. But what?

"That was beautiful, Emerson," Molly said, wiping her eyes when Em had concluded the sweet, traditional Christmas hymn.

Others echoed the sentiments; Emerson wiped her eyes too and smiled weakly.

"I need to go potty," declared Davina and most everybody chuckled. The slightly somber mood was broken and from the way everyone was chattering again, Harry knew they didn't think much of Em's crying. They probably figured she'd been touched by the song, like they were.

But upon seeing the slight frown on Hermione's face as she stood up to take their youngest child to the bathroom, Harry knew he was not the only one who was aware that there was more to it than that.

Turning his attention back to his firstborn, Harry watched her trying to furtively wipe her eyes. His heart heavy, he went and sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulder. She let him hug her for a second before pulling away.

"What's wrong, Moppet?" he asked, trying to see her eyes.

She raised her head and looked at him. "I don't know."

And she sounded so lost and confused that Harry believed her.

*********

By the time the New Year rolled around, Emerson seemed to be doing a little better, though she never regained the level of gaiety that she had had on Christmas morning. And to Harry and Hermione's great frustration, they were still no closer to discovering what was bothering their daughter. Emerson resisted every and all efforts to make her open up, and Hermione was beginning to wonder whether her husband was really only joking when he talked about spiking Em's drink with Veritaserum.

Granted, they did have a little more information to go on. It wasn't hard for them to deduce that perhaps, it wouldn't be remiss for them to look into an American angle to Emerson's troubles. Judging from Em's response to her grandparents' gift, it would have been folly not to do so. Maybe something had happened in Dallas? But why would it wait until now to manifest itself and what could it possibly be? It didn't make any sense, but in their 'Thank You' letter to Herb and Enigi, they'd carefully inquired. Hopefully, the Thomases would be able to offer some insight.

Additionally, after the end of the Christmas evening gathering at the Burrow, Hermione had had a chance to talk to the eldest Weasley grandkids, the ones who were at Hogwarts with Em. Etienne told her that Em had cut classes at least once, and that he knew for a fact that she wasn't bothering with homework in a few subjects. Marc and Marissa spoke about how temperamental Emerson had become, prone to flying off the handle and red-facedly apologizing later.

And all of them spoke of her tears. That she cried a lot lately, giving weak excuses but never really answering their questions. On Boxing Day, at Woodhaven, Brandon Wood told Hermione that Em had been crying in the Gryffindor common room the night before she came home for the holidays. He'd assumed that it was problems with her dorm mate, Jerrianne Youngleer, that had made her upset but he couldn't be sure.

But all of those were products, all effects of whatever it was, and none of them had any idea what the cause was. At their aunt and uncle's request, the teenagers all racked their brains trying to think of anything unusual that had happened to Emerson at school. Anything at all that could've caused her to be changing so much in such a short period of time, and in such a negative way.

But there wasn't anything out of the ordinary, not that they could think of.

Marissa had vocalized what all of them were thinking. "You know who you should talk to? Carolyna Lupin. If anybody could know, she would. The two of them are as inseparable as ever."

"Yeah," Harry said, when Hermione mentioned it to him. "Carolyna. That's who we need to talk to."

Hermione sighed. "But the whole Lupin family is still in Wiesbaden, Germany, remember? Tonks told me that they planned to be back by January second, which was yesterday. But apparently, her father's relatives managed to convince them to stay another week. So now, we'll be lucky if we manage to talk to Carolyna for five minutes before they board the Hogwarts Express to school next week. Since, of course, it's unthinkable for us to interrupt the poor girl's holiday with stuff like this. Besides, I don't know if she would be honest with us. Remember her response to that letter I sent?"

"Yeah."

Hermione sighed. Before the beginning of the Christmas holiday, she had sent a letter to Carolyna, asking her if she knew of anything negative that had happened to Emerson at school. Lyna had written back that no, there wasn't anything, unless one counted struggles with their dormmates. Somehow, Hermione knew that Carolyna wasn't being truthful, but she hadn't had a chance to talk to her in person.

Harry made a sound of frustration, rubbing the back of his unruly head. "But why does Emerson have to be so stubborn? What does she think will happen if she talked to us? Why is she so stubborn, Hermione?"

Because she is your daughter, and you're exactly the same way.

But Hermione didn't say the thought out loud. He didn't need to hear something like that right now, not when he was already so vexed. Instead, she reached up to rub his neck muscles, which were hard with tension. He groaned softly, his eyes drifting shut, but they flew open again when they heard Emerson's voice drifting in from the other room.

She was singing something, wordlessly, but it wasn't humming. Rather, she was vocalizing long, wavering notes in what seemed like no discernible pattern. Hermione's hand dropped away from Harry's neck as he leaned back, listening. Perhaps Em wasn't aware that they could hear her because there was a completely unguarded quality, a vulnerability, about her voice when she finally broke into words.

Your eyes seek conclusion in all this confusion of mine
Though you and I both know,
It's only the warm glow of wine

Hermione felt Harry glance over at her and turned to look back at him. He was eyeing her quizzically and she shrugged.

That's got you to feeling this way
But I don't care; I want you to stay
Just hold me and tell me
You'll be here to love me today

Harry's look had changed from puzzlement to alarm as he stared in the direction of their daughter's voice. His head whipped around to frown at Hermione, his eyes wide. "Isn't she rather young to be singing something like that?"

Strangely, Hermione felt a strong urge to giggle but she could see that her husband was genuinely disturbed. His little girl was growing up and perhaps, before, he hadn't really gotten what that meant. But it was as if he'd suddenly had an epiphany that he didn't like very much.

"Don't worry about it," she said gently, reaching out to pat his hand. "She's just singing. I'm sure she doesn't mean it like that."

Harry didn't look convinced and it didn't help that right then, their daughter was passionately warbling that:

Who cares what the night watchmen say?
The stage has been set for the play.
Just hold me and tell me
You'll be here to love me today.

Harry seemed suddenly agitated, no doubt visions racing through his head of all the one-track-minded males of the world lining up to pursue his newly-adolescent daughter. Hermione could practically see him formulating ways of protecting her, ticking off the checklist: house arrest, Impedimenta barrier, boarding school- shit, scratch that, she's already at boarding school!

"We need to talk to her about that stuff," he burst out suddenly, looking positively terrified at the thought.

She tried really hard not to smile. "It's okay. I already did. And you don't need to worry about her in that regard, at all. She's very mentally mature for her age even though, physically, she's not a woman yet."

His brow furrowed, then cleared. "You mean-"

"Yeah. It hasn't happened yet. But I've already talked to her about all those things."

The look of relief that crossed his face was swiftly followed by one of anxiety. "But maybe she needs a male perspective. You know.. I mean.. it's blokes who will be after her, so she should hear from a man..."

"You don't have to do that," she repeated gently. "She understands."

"Yes, but still-" he broke off, staring in what could only be described as terror in the direction of the room where his twelve year old daughter was now singing about poets demanding their pay and being left with nothing to say:

'Cept hold me and tell me
You'll be here to love me today.

And somehow Hermione knew that Harry would, in spite of all her assurances, overcome his anxiety and talk to Em about "those things". The man was stubborn, just like his daughter, who had now, through no fault of her own, given him one more thing to worry about.

Even as she resolutely resisted easing their minds about the biggest thing of all.

**********

Later that same night, Emerson was sitting on the porch swing, watching the snow drifting down before her eyes. Everything sounded muffled to her ears, even though she could see the bare branches of the trees whipping around in the wind. Neither could she feel even a puff of said doubtless chilly wind. The entire porch was Charmed so that rain, heat or snow, it was nevertheless a safe and comfortable place to lounge.

Em tucked her legs under her and sighed. She wished she could talk to Lyna. The one source of comfort she had in this whole mess was that she had her best friend. Sometimes she did wish that Lyna didn't know about the letters, because that way Em would be free of one more person pressuring her to own up. And there was, of course, the added threat of Lyna spilling the beans to some adult. Although, owing to Emerson's tearful begging, Lyna had feigned ignorance in response to Mum's sleuthing letter. Quite frankly, Em was sure she would have buckled long ago if she didn't have Carolyna to talk to.

'Even though, lately, you aren't being completely honest with her,' a little voice said in her head.

Frowning, she shook her head, not wanting to think about that. Her friend wouldn't be home until the day before their journey back to school, so she was stuck with the burden, all by herself. Not that that was any different than usual, anyway. This was her mess and she had no idea how to clean it up, or even if it was possible for it to be cleaned up.

The sliding doors opened and she turned to see her father walking towards her. Emerson closed her eyes and suppressed a sigh. Oh Circé, couldn't she ever get a break? Couldn't she even have one day free from harassment?

The swing dipped as her father sat down on the other end and Em opened her eyes to glance at him. Maybe it was her imagination but he seemed somewhat nervous. The next second, she mentally scoffed. Since when did her Dad get nervous?

"Lovely night, isn't it?" he said, gesturing at nothing in particular. The swirling snow, she presumed.

"Um, yeah," she said, shooting him a puzzled glance.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes and he kept glancing at her and repeatedly cleaning his glasses. Em felt steadily more uneasy. Had he, somehow, found out something? Had he-

"What's your opinion on boys?" her Dad asked suddenly, as if the words had simply leapt from his throat.

My opinion on- oh! That's why he seems nervous! She hid a grin as relief washed over her. For a minute there, she'd thought he'd found out her secret. And he couldn't. He mustn't. "They're okay, I guess," she said, shrugging. "Why?"

Her Dad fidgeted. "Well- you're.. well, you're at the, er, age when.. um, certain feelings.. er-"

And all of a sudden, Em felt a rush of love for her father. He was so uncomfortable and yet, he was still trying to do it. "Dad, are you trying to talk to me about sex?"

She knew he was probably red-faced and was glad that it was night, because she was blushing too. As much as she loved her Dad, there were just some things that were simply unfathomable to discuss with him. And this was one of them.

"It's okay. Mum already did," she said softly, her insides writhing with mortification.

She felt rather than heard him sigh, from relief most likely, and for the next few minutes, they sat in silence.

"Emerson?"

She turned. He was looking at her with an odd expression. "If you ever have any questions, about anything, you know you don't have to hesitate to ask. You know that, right?"

She nodded, even as she knew there were some questions she would never ask him; questions that were plaguing her right this moment, that had to do with her very existence. But no need to make him worry. "I know. Thanks, Dad."

Again, they sat in now comfortable silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

"By the way, who's Jerrianne Youngleer?" Dad said, looking over at her.

Emerson sighed. "Oh, just a girl in my class who has her nose stuck so far up in the air, it's a wonder she doesn't drown when it rains."

Her father laughed out loud for a good minute and Em felt a warm glow spread through her whole being. "She's in Gryffindor?" he asked, chuckling.

"Yeah, and that blows. She hates me. Which doesn't exactly break my heart, cause I can't stand her either." Em shrugged and tried to hold back a yawn. She should probably go to bed soon, even though that surely meant terrorism by nightmares. But she didn't really want to go. For the first time since September, she seemed to be having a smooth conversation with her father and she didn't want it to break up yet.

"Well, Malfoy and I used to be that way and look at us now," Dad was saying.

"This is different," Em replied dubiously. "At least you two were in different houses. You didn't have to be around each other the majority of the time. No, I don't think this one is destined to change and that's perfectly fine with me. Just what kind of friend could she possibly be? God knows, I already-" Her words died abruptly, as her heart suddenly began to pound, an odd ringing erupting in her ears.

She'd almost mentioned Smiley. She'd almost placed her brothers and sister, innocently sleeping in the house at her back, into the hands of someone who hated them. Because of her. What was wrong with her, anyway?

"You already what?" her father asked and she could feel him watching her intently.

Striving hard to hide how shaken she was, Emerson shrugged. "Nothing. But I think I'll go to bed now. I'm rather tired." Jumping up, she pecked him quickly on the cheek. "Night, Dad."

And not waiting for a response, before he could question her further, she had crossed the porch and slipped inside the comfortable house. She headed straight for her room, locked the door and collapsed weakly on her bed.

She didn't move for a long time, as the tears rolled sideways across her face to plop annoyingly into her ears. And the thought that was taking precedence in her mind was that even though she was in a house full of warm and loving people, she had never ever felt more alone.

**********

"Are you sure you have everything?" Hermione asked Em on the morning that the young girl would be returning to school aboard the Hogwarts Express. Hermione was concerned about her daughter, who was looking like she hadn't had a wink of sleep all night. Her eyes were red and there were dark circles under them.

Em smiled tightly. "Yeah, I'm sure. But I need to use the loo first, before we go."

"Okay, we'll wait for you in the car," Hermione said.

After five minutes, though, when Em still hadn't come out, Hermione went back inside. Upon reaching the bathroom door, she raised her hand to knock but paused when she heard what sounded like muffled sobs coming from within. Alarmed, she quickly rapped on the door. "Emerson? Are you alright?"

The sobs ceased abruptly, and Hermione heard water begin to run. Checking the doorknob, she realized that it was unlocked and opened the door. Her daughter was leaning over the sink, splashing water onto her face. She closed the door behind her and walked over. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Em looked up at her, her eyes puffy and suddenly launched herself into her mother's arms. Startled, Hermione hugged her, feeling the young girl shaking. What was going on? Oh please, God, what was wrong? What was happening to her daughter?

"I don't w-want to go back to s-school," Emerson sobbed, clinging to her and Hermione wanted to cry at the utter misery permeating her daughter's voice.

"Why not, sweetheart? Please tell me. Let me help," she pleaded, desperately.

She felt Em stiffen slightly and pull away. She watched her daughter wipe her eyes with shaking hands and gather her hair back from her face. And Hermione knew that Em wasn't going to tell her. Even with all the anguish she seemed to be enduring, the girl still refused to share it, still refused to trust them with whatever it was that was hurting her.

The ride to King's Cross was tense and strained, Harry and Hermione both having strong senses of foreboding. But they hugged her good-bye, watched Em crying into Vina's hair, grinning through her tears at Budget, whispering something into Ben's ear that made him grin too.

They didn't get a chance to talk to Carolyna Lupin, since she arrived late with barely two minutes to spare. So that part was a bust. Now they could only hope that their request to the Hogwarts Professors (and the Weasley grandkids) to please keep an eye on their daughter and report any unusual activity to them immediately would provide some answers.

Before it was too late.

"I love you guys," Em said with a watery smile, just as the huge scarlet engine began to move. The train picked up speed, moving away and Hermione had a sudden irrational urge to jump forward and grab Emerson away from it. To keep her at home, where she would be safe.

But safe from what? Or was it, from whom? And why?

******

End Notes:

Angsty, eh? :)

1. The line "If you two kissed Jerrianne's arse any harder, you'd be drawing blood" is adapted from one uttered on a recent "Saturday Night Live" episode.

2. The little poem that Em and Brandon recite ("Happiness is being home for Christmas") is something I memorized from a Christmas card when I was a very little girl. I know, I'm weird.

3. The locket that Em receives from her grandparents is inspired by this one: http://www.classic-charms.com/14kheartlocket19.html

4. "What Child Is This?" is a traditional Christmas hymn.

5. The other song that Em sings is "Be Here To Love Me" by Norah Jones. Actually, whenever I imagine Emerson singing, it's Norah Jones's voice that I hear in my head :) She's awesome!

6. Finally, please review!